


To be useful

by Trojie



Series: Trojie's Pornathon Entries 2012 [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Painplay, Porn, Power Imbalance, Scratching, Subterfuge, Summer Pornathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-09 12:12:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>For the Merlin Summerpornathon's first 2012 challenge - image prompts.</i>
</p>
<p>When Morgana takes over Camelot, Merlin passes messages on his own body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To be useful

'Just the nobles and the knights, but I want guards on every door.' Morgana's orders are crisp and clear, and as her men leap to obey, Agravaine looks askance at the kneeling residents of Camelot and asks,

'And the servants, milady?'

Morgana waves a hand dismissively. 'Let them be about their business. Our men have better things to do than care for Pendragon usurpers.'

And so when Merlin, feigning humility and a servant's proper manner, goes to Arthur's door with stale bread and water, the guards let him pass. Inside, Arthur seals a finger to his lips and takes hold of Merlin by his hips, kissing him hungrily. 

Merlin drops the food, and soon after drops his trousers, and soon after _that_ drops his silence, keening as Arthur moulds Merlin's hands to the bedpost and then proceeds to open Merlin up with his fingers in a carnal mockery of a whipping, Merlin twisting between his hands held over his head and the pads of Arthur's fingers dragging slickness inside him. 

And when Arthur pushes his cock in, too big for the stretching Merlin's had, too hot to bear, too much of what Merlin wants and just enough to sate him, he writes red marks with his fingernails down the paleness of Merlin's shoulders. Merlin claws at the bedpost just as Arthur claws at him, but Arthur's deliberate, makes marks one, two, three, four, five in a row, then moves across, adds more, like a pattern or a - Merlin realises, a map, a _plan_.

Arthur's tongue is wet and soothing when he's done with cartography; he laps over the scratches and wraps his hand around Merlin's cock, braces himself on the bedpost with his other arm so that Merlin isn't taking all their weight anymore, and he's kind now, gives Merlin what he wants - the slickness of his hand, the fullness of being fucked, consuming and safe. 

Merlin spends on the foot of Arthur's bed, his shoulders on fire, his legs shaking, and Arthur murmurs in his ear, 'You have to go to Gwaine. Merlin? Go. Go to Gwaine. He knows what to do.'

'He'll fuck me,' Merlin says, with Arthur still pushing into him over and over, seeking his own release. He's supposed to be a bedwarmer. There are listeners at the door, and there will be listeners at Gwaine's door too. They have to make a show of it, be convincing.

Arthur shoves in harder as he says it, and Merlin feels the possessiveness in his hold now, but even Arthur has to make sacrifices if they want to win Camelot back. And he knows Merlin wants this. They've talked of it before, although not not like this.

'You're a bedwarmer,' Arthur says bitterly, and if he bites Merlin's neck as he comes exactly where it'll be visible to everyone, what of it? 

Merlin, still dripping down his leg, treasures the sting of the bite, like he'd treasure anything meant just for him. He pads through the halls of Camelot and tries to remind himself why he's doing this, what's at stake, that this isn't just his fantasy.

'Your bedwarmer,' says the guard, leering, to Gwaine as he shoves Merlin through the door. 

Gwaine's face is shocked, but he realises there's more to it almost immediately.

'I don't have to -' he whispers when Merlin strips for him, but Merlin's hard again already, because of what he's about to do, what he wants, what Arthur sent him here to do, what he's _allowed_ to do, to have, just this once. 

'Please,' says Merlin, and turns around. 

Gwaine's rough hands smooth over Merlin's shoulders, counting marks, as he slides his cock into Merlin's wet, dripping arse. He's trying to be gentle. 

But Merlin is a map, a thing to be useful. A thing to be used. And he comes with Gwaine reading him, with Arthur's come and Gwaine's mingling inside him and running out, too full to hold it all. 

'You're a sight,' Gwaine murmurs, braced over Merlin lying face down in the furs and quilts of his bed. 'I always - but I never wanted this to be how we -'

'I'm a bedwarmer tonight,' says Merlin hoarsely, willing Gwaine to understand.


End file.
